


Love and Loss

by Inner_Devil



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Brain Damage, Cancer, Car Accident, Coma, Complete, Fluff, Gunshots, Hospital, Lung Cancer, M/M, Marriage, Memory Loss, gay babies, permanent brain damage, sharing hospital beds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5923006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inner_Devil/pseuds/Inner_Devil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John gets injured on a case, Sherlock can hardly keep from blaming himself. And from there, things only seem to get worse for the dynamic duo. Sherlock is forced to live through what he put John through so many years ago. Will John pull through for his lover? Or will Sherlock lose his best friend forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Man Down

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for the angst, but I needed it. Have to play Devil's Advocate sometime, didn't I?

There was nothing odd about this particular day. No dark, stormy night. No lightening. No empty streets. In fact, London streets were as busy as ever, with people darting in and out of shops, buses running through the streets, and of course Sherlock and John racing past on yet another case. Of course, London was cloudy as ever, not that they minded much. They just pursued the criminal as they always had. 

"Left, John!" the curly-haired detective shouted as his partner aimed a gun towards the criminal. They were so close to capturing this man, Sherlock could practically taste it. Adrenaline rushed through his body as his long legs brought him ever closer to the perpetrator. 

They veered left, still keeping no the man's tail as John kept trying to get a good aim and shoot. As good as he was, he couldn't quite manage it from this distance. Suddenly though, as they were racing across a street towards an alley, two gunshots were heard, then the screeching of car tires, a thud, groan of pain, and John was on the ground, just feet from the edge of a car.

"John!" Sherlock cried out, darting over to his best friend and kneeling beside him, cradling John's torso and head in his arms and lap. "Someone call an ambulance!" he shouted, though Mycroft, always watching from the CCTV cameras, had seen it all and already sent an ambulance their way. "John......John please," he murmured, tears welling up in his eyes. This was entirely foreign to him, though he realized John had been through all of this for him. He'd heard every word that John had said. But now, when it was his turn, the detective could hardly say his partner's name. "You have to live," he whispered, holding John close and doing his best to fix any injuries. 

An ambulance soon arrived, two paramedics pulling Sherlock away so they could get to John. Greg and Mycroft were also there to help keep Sherlock calm.

"Two bullet wounds, one in his foot, one through his abdomen. Likely a fractured femur as well," the elder Holmes commented in a monotone as John was placed on a stretcher and brought into the ambulance.

Sherlock rushed forward, pulling away from the men restraining him as he forced his way into the ambulance. "I'm going with him," he told them firmly. No one argued, just closing the doors and heading for St. Mary's Hospital. He needed to get to the A&E as soon as they could get him there.

John was out cold, likely from blood loss the paramedics told him. That and the shock of being hit by the car shortly after. The men cut away the blonde's cream colored jumper, which Sherlock insisted on holding close as he cried and watched over his friend. John's torso was stripped bare and he was hooked up to machines to monitor his vitals. The men checked to make sure there was an even number for the bullets. If not, either they'd missed an injury, or there was still one bullet inside.

"There's four holes," one announced. "Both bullets exited the body. Our main concern is keeping the blood in him. They'll check for internal damage at the A&E."

Of course, Sherlock knew this. He'd been shot before. But this was different. His mind seemed to go blank as the only thing he could think of was what could happen to John. He couldn't lose this man. He just couldn't. The two paramedics in the ambulance with them focused on keeping John's vitals stable and keeping pressure on the wounds. The blonde was still breathing, heart still beating. So he was still alive for now. But would he make it to the hospital? Or was Sherlock watching his friend fade from existence right then and there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are four holes because there is an entrance wound and exit wound for each bullet


	2. Life or Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end, I promise. There's still more to come.

Once they'd reached the hospital, Sherlock was forced to wait in the lounge while John was taken back for care. He very clearly needed surgery and it needed to be determined if there was any internal damage. Sherlock was furious that he had to wait, pacing outside the operating room. He didn't stop for a second, only taking the occasional pause to use the loo or get a drink. But he didn't eat the entire time he was waiting.

The doctor didn't emerge for roughly 5 hours, sighing softly. "Mr. Holmes? You're listed as John Watson's emergency contact. We thought you'd like to know how he's doing," she commented. "I'm Dr. Lisa Jennings. I was charged with his care. Mr. Watson had two gunshot wou--"

"Two gunshot wounds and a broken femur. I know," Sherlock interrupted. "Where is John? He's still alive, isn't he? He must be."

Dr. Jennings sighed. "He is," she replied. "He's alive and resting in room 208, though he's still asleep. There's no telling when he may wake up. But there was some internal damage to his lungs. You see, we performed a few x-rays and found that one of the bullets skimmed his last rib. The other unfortunately managed to go straight through the bone in his left foot. He'll have to be in a wheelchair for at least the next month. Likely more. And his rib will hurt, but we've given him pain medication, so he should be fine. The rib should heal properly on its own. If you'd like to see him, he will be allowed visitors. Just be careful not to knock him about much. And do try not to wake him. He needs to wake on his own."

Sherlock nodded, rushing off to the room that they'd told him. 208. 208. 208. He repeated it to himself mentally as he glanced at each door. When he reached John's room, he hurried inside and found the blonde asleep but still breathing. His leg and foot were in a cast and his abdomen was bandaged. Dressed in a paper hospital gown, the shorter man was hooked up to various machines yet again. Sherlock sighed and took a seat next to the hospital bed, just waiting for John to wake up.

"John," the brunette murmured, taking his partner's hand with no reaction on John's part. "I love you. You can't die. You just can't. I understand now what you went through when I had to fake my death for you. This isn't funny. You have to live. You just have to," he insisted. He couldn't seem to think of anything else to say. As many times as he could ramble on for hours on end and right now, when it counted the most, he couldn't think of anything.

The entire rest of the day, Sherlock never left John's side. Not when the nurses came in. Not when the doctor came to check on John. Never. He stayed right there next to his best friend, waiting for John to wake up. But nothing changed that day. Or the next. Or the next. For three weeks, John was out cold. There was no change in his vitals, for better or worse. He was just.

"Mr. Holmes," Dr. Jennings finally sighed one day. "Mr. Watson hasn't shown any progress. It may be time consider saying your goodbyes. It doesn't appear that he's going to get better and there's no more we can do. At this point, it's unlikely he's going to come back into consciousness. We, of course, will keep him here as long as you'd like. It's simply a suggestion that you prepare for the worst. We'll continue trying though."

Sherlock was speechless. His partner was dying right before his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. Soon John would be dead, according to what they were telling him. He needed to say whatever he was still holding inside and begin planning John's funeral. Of course he'd have to tell everyone that John was going to be gone soon. Sherlock just nodded to the doctor and sat in silence until she left. Then he got out his mobile and let Greg, Mycroft, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson know what was going on. Of course they all came in to say their goodbyes.

"He was such a nice chap. I'm sorry to see him go," Mrs. Hudson sighed. "I know you two got on so wonderfully and were just getting comfortable with one another. I never thought I'd see him gone before I was."

"Me either. This is awful! I mean, you two meant so much to each other! How could this have happened?" Molly exclaimed.

"This is all my fault. We were on a case. If I'd been more careful, it wouldn't have happened," Sherlock muttered.

"This isn't your fault, mate," Greg told him gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "The car hit him, and that other bloke shot him. You couldn't have prevented it. You know he would've made you take the case eventually."

"Greg is right. This is not your fault," Mycroft assured his brother. "But, in any case, we do have a funeral to plan now. So we should get to work."


	3. Along for the Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of happy chapter, just to lighten things up. Just for a moment. Sorry for getting a bit philosophical towards the end.

"Has everyone said their goodbyes?" Dr. Jennings asked, coming in the next day. 

Everyone nodded. 

"I'm staying in the room. I need to be with him," Sherlock insisted, taking John's hand as the blonde man continued to sleep.

No one argued. Dr. Jennings left to get the final injection that would slowly take John away while Sherlock held his hand. And as stoic as the detective seemed, he was breaking inside. Reverting back to his old, emotionless self. He couldn't allow for more hurt feelings. He needed to rid himself of emotions once and for all, focusing solely on cases. There was no doubt he'd soon end up back on drugs himself. But right now, his focus was on John. Staying with him until his final moments.

"I love you, John Hamish Watson. You always insisted we had to be married one day and I always told you no, that marriage was a foolish, religious tradition that didn't suit us. I was wrong. I would give anything to marry you right this second. To promise our love to one another and swear we'd never part from one another. Until death do us part. But we can't, not when you're in a coma. We can't get married.....have children......grow old together. Everything you always wanted. John.....if you live.....please live......I'll do anything. I'll stop taking cases. I'll stop smoking. Anything. Just please live," Sherlock murmured, tearing up a bit.

"Don't you dare," came a raspy voice as John's hand grew tighter around Sherlock's.

Sherlock gasped as John's eyes opened, hugging the blonde close. "You're alive," he murmured. "But....you.....you've been in a coma for weeks. They were going to take you from me. We were planning your funeral!"

"And all while I was right here," John teased, smiling weakly. "I heard you. I don't know how. But I did. I heard all of it. And it killed me that I couldn't show you that I could hear you. That I couldn't do anything to let you know that I would be okay. I guess I know how it must've felt for you...."

"And I know how you must have felt. You lost me and thought I was dead. And I thought I was losing you," Sherlock sighed, smiling softly. "I'm glad you're alive. I can hardly believe it."

John chuckled softly. Soon Dr. Jennings returned and raised a brow, then smiled. "We didn't think you'd make it," she commented. "It's good to see you awake and talking again, Mr. Watson."

John smiled and nodded. "Thank you. But what's all this?" he asked, glancing to the bandages and cast.

"One bullet went through your foot, the other through your abdomen, and you got hit by a car. You have three broken bones in your left foot as well as a fractured femur. You'll be confined to a wheelchair for at least a few weeks, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. It seems to have missed all major arteries and nerves."

John nodded. "Good. I'll still be able to walk then. Once I get this bloody cast off," he chuckled, then sighed. "So where's everyone else?"

"They stepped out. I'm the only one who refused to leave," Sherlock admitted.

"Of course you did," John chuckled, kissing Sherlock's cheek. "I'm so glad you stayed. That was such a sweet speech you gave. But why don't we call everyone else in so they know I'm okay?"

Sherlock nodded and Dr. Jennings left to retrieve everyone else. When they all came back in, most seemed astonished. Apart from Mycroft, who kept his cool, calm demeanor. Molly, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson all came over to hug him.

"It's good to see you awake and speaking yet again, Dr. Watson," Mycroft commented. "I'm certain my brother is glad to see you like this once more."

John rolled his eyes and smiled as he got hugs from everyone else. Molly was crying with joy. Mrs. Hudson rambled about everything that had happened over the past few weeks. And Greg tried to talk Sherlock into believing that this wasn't his fault. He also made sure to tease about how soon they'd be out yet again on more cases. Sherlock was more somber though, not wanting to risk putting John's life in danger yet again with another case. He'd never take another case again if it meant John would be safe.

For now, for one single moment in one single day in the infinity of life, everyone was happy. Everyone lived. But as we all know, time goes on. Life continues. Everything is unpredictable and not a single human, no matter their identity or significance, can change that. While we may influence our own destiny, there are still circumstances which we cannot change and which we must accept. Sometimes life takes its own path. And no matter how unfair it seems, we have to travel down the rough path and see where it takes us. Even if it means that we are the next gift that life gives to death and that death will cradle us forever in its dark, depressing arms. John may have been happy for now, as was everyone else. But, as everyone knows, we cannot choose these happy and sad moments. Life is unpredictable and sometimes the most lovely people receive the worst of fates. We just have to wait and see where John's path will take him and what happens to everyone along for the ride.


	4. More News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW Cancer

"Sherlock, I'm fine. Seriously! You don't have to do this," John insisted as Sherlock pushed his wheelchair upstairs to their flat. "I can get upstairs on my own and you could just carry the chair."

"No. It's my fault you were injured in the first place. I'm not allowing anymore possible injuries," Sherlock argued. "I'm going to take care of you. I won't let anything happen to worsen your injuries."

John sighed, but let it happen. When they finally got inside, Sherlock insisted on making them tea and basically smothering John as much as possible. So when the phone rang and John saw his chance for escape, he took it.

"I'll get it!" he called, racing to the phone and answering. "Hello?"

"Mr. Watson? This is Dr. Jennings," the other voice answered. "We have some news for you."

"Okay...." he murmured. This didn't sound good.

"We were looking at your x-rays that we took before you left today and I'm afraid we have some bad news. While it doesn't look like the bullet did much damage, we were so focused on those injuries that we appear to have missed a small tumor in your lung," Dr. Jennings told him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Watson. But it seems you have lung cancer. It's a relatively small tumor and we doubt it's spread yet, but we need to schedule another appointment for you, this time with oncology."

"But......This can't be possible. I've never even smoked!" John insisted, though he tried keeping his voice down.

"Well do you like with anyone who smokes? Or are you frequently around anyone who does smoke?" she asked. "Secondhand smoke is just as dangerous as firsthand. If you spend copious amounts of time around someone who smokes frequently, that could be the source of your cancer."

Sherlock....That must be where he'd gotten it. "I see.....Can I come in tomorrow at 3 pm?" he asked. Hopefully Sherlock wouldn't notice. Maybe John could get him to go on a case for a while or something.

"All right. We'll schedule you for then," Dr. Jennings agreed. "And Mr. Watson? It appears, as far as we can tell, to only be Stage I cancer. So we should be able to remove it. Surgery and possibly some radiation. There shouldn't be any need for chemotherapy though."

John sighed. "Thanks for calling, doctor," he replied before hanging up. How was he going to explain this to Sherlock?

"Who were you informing about your health habits?" Sherlock questioned as he brought in tea, though he could deduce everything from the context of the call.

"Dr. Jennings. She was just calling to, um....check up on things," John answered, then sighed. "Sherlock, there's something I need to tell you....And it's not going to be easy."

"You have lung cancer," Sherlock murmured. "I know. I heard your call. You were telling her about your smoking habits, the fact that you live with someone who smokes, seemed shocked and upset. It was a logical conclusion, especially when you made another appointment," he sighed. "Yet another threat to your life that could easily have been prevented if it weren't for me. I'm a danger to your life."

"Don't you dare say that! I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You are not a threat to my life. I can't tell you how many times you've saved my life. I have no doubt that without you, I would've been dead a long time ago. Now, I want you to come with me tomorrow to my appointment. You'll see. We'll schedule the operation and the tumor will be out in no time, you'll see." 


	5. The Doctor's Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock's visit to the doctor doesn't go quite as planned.

When the time came, John and Sherlock got ready, caught a cab, and went to the doctor's office. John was solemn and Sherlock in his Mind Palace. Neither spoke. They both knew what the other was thinking though. John could hardly believe he'd gotten cancer after all these years, and hell, from his flatmate smoking! What were the odds? And Sherlock could hardly believe it was his fault yet again. It seemed destiny was determined to make Sherlock John's cause of death.

When they reached the doctor's office, John paid the cabbie and headed inside. He had to use his cane again, due to the stress and the damage from the car wreck. But he refused any help, coming inside and waiting for his name to be called to enter an exam room. It didn't take too long though before the men were headed inside a room and John sat waiting on the table for his doctor to come in. When Dr. Jennings arrived, she put up the x-ray for them to see the tumor.

"I wish I had better news for you," Dr. Jennings sighed. "Cancer is never fun to diagnose. But it does appear to be Stage I lung cancer, so we should easily be able to remove it. We'd just like to get a few more x-rays to be sure. If it appears to be more, we may want a sample of the tumor so we can decide what the best path may be. Though ultimately, the decision is yours.'

John nodded, staring at the small mass in his right lung. He could still hardly believe this was real. "Let's get on with it then," he sighed, getting to his feet. 

"Wait," Sherlock insisted, standing as well. "You'll be needing his past medical records." Before anyone could ask where these might be retrieved from, Sherlock pulled out a plain manilla folder simply marked "John Hamish Watson". "I had Mycroft pull these before we came," he admitted, handing them over.

Dr. Jennings smiled a little and nodded, looking them over. "Thank you," she replied, reading over some of the information. She frowned, furrowing her brow. "You were in the army?" she questioned John. 

"Yes, I was. Afghanistan for a number of years. Why?" john responded, confusion and worry evident in his voice.

"Well at the time, chemical warfare was used. The toxins you would've been exposed to are innumerable. We've had cases like this before. Men returning from war and coming in with varying stages of lung cancer. Unfortunately, many are deadly. We'll need to do more testing," Dr. Jennings told him. "We can do it after the x-rays and get your results back within the week."

John frowned, but nodded and went with her. While the testing was done, Sherlock just waited in the exam room. The cancer was his fault, he was sure. He was killing John. Maybe it would be best if they split up so John could be safe. He was filled with thoughts when John returned, the blonde chuckling softly.

"Don't worry. He does this all the time," John assured the doctor. "Sherl? Come on, love. Snap out of it," he coaxed, leaning in and giving Sherlock a gentle kiss.

The man slowly came back and blinked. "Don't do that. It'll make your cancer worse," he insisted, though he knew it was completely irrational.

John sighed. "Sherlock, you know that's not true. Besides, I'm not just going to stop kissing you. I love you."

"I'm a danger to you," Sherlock argued.

"Actually, you aren't," Dr. Jennings commented. "John gave me a bit more history on himself and your lives together. He also informed me that you hardly smoke around him, if at all. So it's highly unlikely that the cancer was a result of being around you. You're hardly a cause of the cancer," she assured him.

"See? What did I tell you? You're no threat to me. I love you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. And I swear I will beat this cancer for you and we'll get married, properly. I promise," John murmured, kissing Sherlock's cheek.

The detective smiled a little. "Then....your cancer must be from the chemicals in Afghanistan," he realized. "Is it still Stage I? Or did it spread?"

Dr. Jennings sighed. "To be honest, this is another moment I wish I had better news. It's spread. What we saw on the first x-ray was just a portion of the tumor. There was far more to it. Really, it appears to be Stage IIIB. This means that the cancer has spread to the lymph nodes on the opposite side of his chest. It's not quite to his collar bone, but it won't be long if it continues to spread. There are various different treatments though. Surgery, chemotherapy, immunotherapy, targeted treatments. The best option likely would be to use chemotherapy to shrink the tumor, then surgically remove it. Many patients respond well to this and we can remove the tumor. Then we just watch to see if it comes back. Hopefully it won't."

John nodded. "I suppose that's what we'll do, if it's the best option," he murmured.

"It's your choice," Dr. Jennings explained. "Immunotherapy would involve breaking down the molecular structure that prevents your body from attacking tumor cells. It then causes your immune system to attack the tumor and hopefully dispose of it. It's usually well tolerated. Targeted treatments have may different options. It would just depend on your decisions."

John sighed. "All right. I think we need to take some time to go home and think about it," he decided.

Dr. Jennings nodded. "Don't worry. You can take some time to think things through. Just give us a call when you've decided on a treatment plan and to schedule your next appointment."

"All right. Thank you, Dr. Jennings," John answered, leaving with Sherlock. The pair went home in silence, neither daring to admit what had happened was real. It was as though if they didn't acknowledge it, it would disappear. Though they both knew that was a ridiculous notion. But John didn't want to talk and Sherlock wasn't really in the mood either. So while John was deep in thought, they simply returned home and eventually went to bed.


	6. Making Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 3 questions in this chapter came from Adam Ruins Everything (Episode: Adam Ruins Death)

The next day, while John and Sherlock were home, the pair were trying to decide what treatment would be best for John. Sherlock was still insisting that they wouldn't take cases, not wanting to be the cause for yet another injury or problem for John.

"John," the detective commented from his laptop. "I've been looking at....statistics. For lung cancer, there's a 30% survival rate for 1 year, 10% for 5 years, and....... and 5% for 10 years. For 3B specifically, it falls to 7 to 9%." He fell silent for a moment afterwards. He may have as little as one year with John. That was no where near long enough.....

"Sherl.....don't think like that," John murmured with a sigh. "I'll beat this. I will. I've fought wars, for fuck's sake! I can fight this too. We just need to look at treatments."

"But.....You could die," Sherlock whispered.

"I could. I doubt I will. But I could. So I'll tell you what. We'll make a plan. Hell, I should've made a plan ages ago. But I guess.....I guess I never thought of it," the blonde admitted. 

"Wait a moment," Sherlock added, typing away on his laptop. "Here. I found this earlier, but dismissed it. I kept it for future case reference though. It's about death and planning for it."

John looked it over and nodded. "This makes sense," he agreed. "Death is always going to be frightening. No matter how much we plan. Because we can't imagine it. But we can plan for it and make sure that, whatever happens and whichever one of us goes first, it provides an outline for the funeral so we know we've done what the other would've wanted. Let's see......it says there are three questions you should ask yourself when you plan for this. So I guess we should both think of this just in case."

John grabbed a pen and pad of paper to jot down their answers. "Okay. Number one: If you couldn't make decisions for yourself, who would make decisions on your behalf?"

"If I couldn't make decisions for myself, I would want you to make the decisions for my care," Sherlock decided immediately. "Mycroft wouldn't know what's best for me. Though I think.....I think at some point, you should listen to him. Gavin wouldn't make the right decisions for me. He's a moron, just like everyone else. But you would know. You and Mycroft, I suppose."

"That's sweet. I think you should make the decisions for me," John decided. "Harry couldn't do it, and Mike, as nice as he is, wouldn't be able to. Greg would be good as a friend, but I don't think he'd know what I wanted. You would." He jotted down their answers and continued, "Number two: If you suffered a permanent and serious brain injury, how bad would it have to be for you to change your goals for care?"

"If I were going to be unable to speak or deduce, I wouldn't want to stay alive. Or if I were brain dead," Sherlock thought aloud. He would hate having to suffer through life without being able to correct others.

"All right. And if I were brain dead or if I would be unable to move. It would drive me mad," John added, writing their answers. "Number three: Do you have any strongly held values or beliefs that would influence how medical decisions might be made?"

"No. I don't believe in a higher power, no matter what the Woman would have you believe," Sherlock answered. "I value you. I want to be alive as long as possible with you. But if you're gone, the only other value I have is my ability to deduce."

"I value honesty. Loyalty. Trust. Love. But nothing I think that would influence medical decisions. I'd rather not be pumped full of chemicals, I suppose," John decided as he jotted the ideas down. "There. We're prepared. Does that make you feel better? I'll even put it somewhere safe so we have it if either of us dies anytime soon."

"I suppose so," Sherlock sighed, kissing John's cheek. "Now we can plan for treatment," he agreed with a soft smile.

"Good," John answered with a smile. "Let's get to work on that. We'll need to decide and let Dr. Jennings know."

John put the plan somewhere safe before returning to the sitting room and researching certain types of treatment. They both did. And eventually, they decided.

"I may lose my hair, but I think I know what I want," John told him. "Radiation and chemo. It'll be difficult, but from what I've read, it'd be most effective."

Sherlock nodded. "If that's what you want," he agreed. "We'll tell Dr. Jennings about it." 

John grabbed his mobile and nodded. "I'll give her a call," he commented, getting up and calling her to tell her about his treatment plan. Sherlock was still worried though. He knew the statistics. He knew the likelihood that all of this would work. He could very easily lose John and he wanted to make sure that whatever time they had left together would be amazing.


	7. Planned to the T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock can't stand the thought of being alone again. He can't lose John. And the idea that he might is driving him mad. Well, more mad than he already is. This is how he decides to cope.  
> I figured you all could use some fluff after all this angst.

Sherlock couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle the thought that John was likely to die within the year. So he decided to do something about it instead of just sitting there and moping about it. So while John was away for his first treatment for cancer, Sherlock put together the perfect date planner. He had a date planned for every day of the next two years, just in case John did make it that long. But he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He just condensed it all into a shorter time period. Today his planner looked something like this:

8:00-9:30 am  Breakfast at home [eggs, bacon, and hash browns]

9:31-10:00 am "relaxing" time

10:01-10:13 am  walk to The Regents Park Tennis Centre

10:14-10:53 am  play tennis

10:54-11:01 am  walk to Open Air Theatre

11:02-12:32 pm  watch performance

12:33-12:37 pm loo break

12:38-12:44 pm walk to Secret Garden

12:45-2:05 pm  lunch in Secret Garden

2:06-2:55 pm  walk to Princess Diana Memorial Fountain

2:55-3:21 pm  walk to Elfin Oak

3:21-3:33 pm  rest and loo break 

3:34- 3:44 pm  walk to Notting Hill Arts Club

3:45-4:45 pm spend time at Notting Hill Arts Club

4:46-4:53 pm  walk to The Windsor Castle

4:55-6pm  have dinner at The Windsor Castle

6:01-6:07 pm  loo break

6:08-6:10 pm  brisk walk to tube station

6:10 pm   board tube home

6:11-6:26 ride tube to Bond Street Station

6:27-6:29 pm ride tube to Baker Street

6:30-6:34 pm  walk home

Sherlock had everything planned out to the minute so that they could do everything possible on this date. He knew John loved watching performances and being out in nature. And it would take his mind off of the fact that he had cancer. It would be amazing. And while it could also be exhausting, it would be incredible as well. He was determined to make this the best date he could possibly make it. But all that seemed to change when John came home.

"Sherlock?" the blonde called, though Sherlock could hardly call him that anymore. His partner was completely bald.

"John......what....what happened?" the detective stammered in shock, eyes wide open.

John smiled a little. "I stopped off at the barber shop and decided to get it all shaved off. I mean hell, I'm probably gonna go bald with this cancer treatment anyway. I figured better to do it now and have it be my choice than to wait for it to fall out bit by bit and not be able to do anything about it. So? What do you think?"

"It.......It's.....gone," Sherlock muttered in shock. He soon couldn't handle it anymore and ran off to his bedroom, slamming the door and leaving John there to wonder what had gone wrong. 

"Sherlock?" John called, following him and knocking on the door. He just heard Sherlock crying inside, which was completely out of character as far as John was concerned. Although it had happened a few times before. It took a lot to shake Sherlock though. "Sherlock, what's wrong? What happened?" he murmured as he came into the room, shutting the door softly. "Did I do something?"

Sherlock shook his head and sighed, trying to collect himself. He hated to let anyone see him like this. "I just...... Seeing you like this..... completely bald....... it just made the cancer so much more real. I just..... I can't stand the thought that you could die like this."

"Oh, Sherl....... I didn't do this to upset you. Not at all. I just wanted this to be my choice and not something I had to deal with," John told him, sitting down on the bed with him and holing his partner close. "I'm sorry it scared you like this. But I'm going to fight for you. I promise." He started coughing then and it took some time before he could finally breathe properly again. Okay, not the best timing for something like that to happen. "Don't worry. I'll be just fine," the blonde insisted.

Sherlock sighed. "Okay," he murmured. 

The pair spent some time just cuddling together in the bedroom, which cut into the time that Sherlock had planned everything out. But when they did leave, Sherlock was still adamant that they spend the same amount of time at everything he had planned. He brought the planner along with them so he knew exactly what time they should show up to certain places and when it was time to leave. When they arrived at certain areas where he knew he had a bathroom break planned, he pointed out the loo at the beginning and made sure they left right on time. He'd even brought hand sanitizer so that John wouldn't have to spend so much time in the loo. He could sanitize his hands and walk at the same time.

As far as John was concerned, the date was a bit hectic and there were some bumps in the road. Namely things that took too long for Sherlock's liking. But all in all, it was a wonderful day. John love the fact that Sherlock went to so much trouble to make it a wonderful day. And when they finally made it home, John was utterly exhausted.

"And you say you've got a date planned for every day for the next two years? You might just kill me!" John laughed as they came inside and took off his shoes. "I'm going to go get a bath and then we can go to bed together," he hummed. "Care to join me?"

Sherlock smiled and nodded, going with John to the bathroom. The two showered together before going to bed, wrapped in one another's arms as they dozed off.


	8. Treating the Wounds

Sherlock's date plans weren't entirely perfect. After all, John did still have to visit Dr. Jennings and get his treatment. He kept his hair shaved so it wouldn't be lost to cancer and made sure to keep up a healthy diet so that he would stay healthy during treatment. He didn't want to become a skeleton like he'd seen countless others do, after all. He needed to stay strong.

The first step of John's treatment was radiation therapy. As a doctor, he knew some things about radiology and general things to expect. But he didn't specialize in oncology, so he didn't know exactly what he was in for. Dr. Jennings explained what she could so that John could understand, telling him about side effects of the treatment as well as what he could expect throughout the treatment and after. He knew he needed to wait almost a year. But then the cancer would hopefully be gone. He hoped. But he knew the chances were slim.

John laid back and let the doctor do what needed to be done. This was worked into his schedule for the next two months, roughly ten minutes of radiation therapy. And Sherlock saw every last side effect. First, it was the fatigue. John was constantly tired, though he blamed it on his hectic schedule. Then he constantly complained about itchy patches on his skin near the treated area. It began to flake and peel in that spot. His shoulder also became sore and stiff, though John insisted it was because of the scarring. Just the old injury wreaking havoc. But Sherlock knew.

"John," the brunette sighed one day. "I know you don't want to hear this. But the radiation is affecting you."

"Of course it is! It's getting rid of the cancer," John told him with a smile. The blonde's expression was clearly forced though, bags under his eyes and his complexion greying. 

"I'm serious. You're beginning to experience the side effects. Fatigue, skin problems, sore and stiff shoulders. I think.....I think it would be best for you to stay home unless you're leaving for a doctor's appointment or some other necessary function," Sherlock told him.

"What?! Stay home like some shut-in?" the blonde scoffed. "I'm not doing that. I'm not dying, Sherlock. I need to get out or I'll go stir crazy. Just....." He sighed. "All right. Maybe I'm having some side effects. But that doesn't mean that I need to stay inside. I am perfectly capable of going out and living a normal life. The only difference now is that I have radiation appointments to go to."

"You could get hurt even more easily! The radiation is hurting you and you shouldn't risk getting even worse or getting hurt," Sherlock argued.

"Sherlock, listen to me! I'm not staying inside! I'm going to keep living my life and there's nothing that will stop that!" John snapped before storming out. Sherlock sighed, letting him go. John just needed some space. He'd come back.

This happened often throughout John's treatment, his temper much shorter since he was so tired. The side effects piled on as well, including trouble swallowing, chest soreness, and shortness of breath. He stopped going on cases because he had a hard time keeping up with Sherlock. Not that Sherlock was insisting on him going anymore. He practically treated John like an invalid. But eight weeks later, John's radiation treatment was finished. That didn't mean the end of his treatment though. During the radiation therapy, he and Dr. Jennings had agreed to combine it with chemotherapy. The chemotherapy would take longer, however. Roughly six months. He was only a few weeks into the treatment, so he still had a little over five months of the treatment left to go.

The side effects only got worse during chemotherapy. The fatigue and pain worsened. He was often nauseous and had diarrhea. His memory wasn't as good. He lost weight and his appetite. His hair never returned, though he didn't have to shave it. He was often weak. He was a shell of himself, Sherlock thought. He could hardly stand it. He still blamed himself for many of John's problems, but did his best to take care of the other. It was a tough six months for both of them, though Mycroft, Greg, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson did their best to support both John and Sherlock. But six months later, the chemo was due to be finished and John had to return for his final examination. Everyone wanted to know just one thing: Was the cancer gone?


	9. Diagnosis and Prognosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the doctor for his final examination to find out if the cancer is gone

John was exhausted as he came in for his appointment the next day, unable to sleep the night before. He was so worried about what the results of his tests would be. He just wanted this all to be over. Sherlock had tagged along this time, seeing as it was supposed to be the last one. He wanted to be there to hear the final prognosis.

"Dr. Watson," Dr. Jennings greeted with a smile. "Lovely to see you, as always. I see you brought Mr. Holmes as well."

"Yes, yes, let's get on with it. We came for the final diagnosis and prognosis," Sherlock snapped irritably. He was incredibly worried and anxious already. He didn't want to wait any longer than absolutely necessary for these results.

John glared a bit, then sighed. "Let's get this over with then, shall we?" he hummed. He'd been trying not to show it, but the chemo really was taking its toll on him. He was exhausted, thin, had a dry mouth and chest pain, trouble breathing, got sick more easily, and could hardly keep down most food. He did his best to hide it from Sherlock, but some days he barely managed. 

"Well, there's some good news and some bad news," Dr. Jennings told them. "It seems the chemotherapy has halted the tumor's growth as we'd hoped. It also shrunk the tumor to a manageable size so we can remove it. But the bad news is that the surgery we'll need to perform to remove the tumor could have some rather bad side effects. To begin with, the site of incision will likely be painful for quite some time after the surgery. You'll need to limit any physical activity for a few months after surgery. And it may make it difficult to breath properly at times. But you should be able to heal nicely given time. We'll of course give you some pain medication. And there's a rare possibility that you could have an adverse reaction to the anesthesia. But after viewing your medical records, it's unlikely for you. Due to your age, you may notice more trouble breathing than most. But you should be just fine."

"See? I told you I'd beat this thing," John chuckled to Sherlock, smirking a little as he looked over.

"You haven't beaten it yet, John. The surgery still needs to go well. And even still, something could go wrong and the cancer could return," Sherlock insisted.

"He's right. It could come back. We'll be keeping an eye on you for the next five years, just to make sure it doesn't return though. But after surgery and until the five year mark, you'll have cancer in remission. Hopefully we'll be able to say it's cured after that," Dr. Jennings replied.

John nodded. "All right. Let's schedule surgery then," he decided. "Don't worry, Sherl. We'll make it a day that you can come too. Everyone can come, but I'm sure they'll only want one at a time with me after surgery. Later on though, everyone can come see me." He held Sherlock's hand gently, kissing his cheek to comfort him.

Sherlock nodded. "Okay. I'll be there when you wake up, I swear," he murmured. "I won't take any cases on the day we schedule this. I'll have the entire day open so I won't miss anything."

They scheduled a date to return for surgery when they could both be there, then headed home. Sherlock especially wanted to make the most of the time they had until John's surgery. Though they had the doctor's assurance that everything would likely go off without a problem, he was still nervous. What if John didn't make it through the surgery? What if he lost too much blood? What if a medical tool was left inside him? What if he reacted badly to the anesthetic? What if...... What if....... What if..... That's all that could go through his mind, even when he went into his mind palace and tried to bring up good memories.

Until the date set up for John's surgery, Sherlock tried to do as much as possible with him. He allowed John to help with cases at home, made dinner when he could, ordered in, set up dates, and more. He tried his hardest to make sure that, if John died, they'd at least have an amazing time beforehand. But nothing could prepare Sherlock for when the day actually came. While John seemed calm and collected, Sherlock was panicking inside. He hid it well, but John knew.

"Sherlock, love. I'm going to be okay, I promise," John assured, kissing Sherlock's cheek and holding his hand. "I'll be out before you know it. And I can't wait to wake up and see you when I'm healthy again."

Sherlock just nodded, then pressed his lips against John's and kissed him deeply. "I love you, John Hamish Watson," he whispered.

John returned the kiss and nodded, smiling softly. "I love you too, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," he murmured. It wasn't long before he was wheeled into surgery then. Sherlock waited in the waiting area the entire time, hardly occupying himself on his own. Instead of leaving him to fend for himself, Greg stopped by to give him some cold cases to solve and Mycroft came to play a few games with him. Molly got coffee with him as well and Mrs. Hudson came by to drop of some things. Everyone did their best to keep him occupied for the hours John was in surgery.

"Mr. Holmes?" the voice finally came as a nurse entered the room. Sherlock stood immediately. "Come on back. Dr. Watson has just been released from surgery. He's still under the effects of the anesthesia, but he'll likely wake soon. Just stay calm and quiet and don't try to force him out of it. His memory may be a bit foggy, but it's temporary. He'll remember everything once the anesthesia has worn off."

Sherlock of course knew all of this, but didn't say a word. His mind was on John and John alone. Once he was told what room John was in, he raced in and sat at the bedside. He'd wait for ages if it meant he could be there when John woke up. He wanted to be the first thing his partner saw. He wanted to be there for everything.

Everyone left them alone, knowing just from looking at them that they were together and deeply in love. They deserved some alone time after all they'd been through. No one bothered them as John laid in the bed. It took some time, but eventually he began to move and make small noises. Sherlock grinned and held his hand, waiting eagerly for his partner to wake. And the second he had, Sherlock kissed his cheek and remained in the chair. 

The pair talked together the entire day and night after that, Sherlock refusing to leave even when visiting hours were over. After Mycroft pulled a few strings, Sherlock was permitted to remain in John's room with him, climbing into the bed and pressing up against John as they slept together that night. It was the best Sherlock and John had felt in months.


	10. Midnight Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy's here!

John was kept in the hospital for a couple of weeks to be monitored so the doctors knew his surgery had gone well. But everything seemed to be just fine. While John did notice some trouble breathing, he refused to allow it to slow him. Every day, he got up out of bed and walked through the halls to build his strength. Slowly he built to a light jog, though he did have to be careful not to slide on the tile floors. It was still hard to breathe, but John didn't mind it as much once he had his strength and lung capacity built up. 

Sherlock, of course, was right there with him every day. He refused to leave, having Mycroft bring in clothes and necessities for them. Greg brought in case files to keep Sherlock occupied and John helped on them where he could. Mrs. Hudson baked pastries for the pair and Molly visited daily to check in. Everyone seemed confident that John was healing properly and would be home in no time. Unfortunately, there was something no one counted on.

That night, while John was asleep, none other than James Moriarty entered the room with his usual dramatic flare. The only person there to notice was Sherlock, who remained quiet so as not to wake John. 

"Well well, aren't you two cute?" Jim purred with a smirk, then laughed as Sherlock's grip on John tightened. "Oh, calm down. I didn't come for him. No..... that day will come in time. I came to talk to you, darling."

"What do you want?" Sherlock spat, forcing himself to relax so Moriarty wouldn't see weakness in him.

"There's plenty of time to get to that," Jim chuckled, taking a seat by the end of the bed. "You're always in such a rush. You really ought to take your time with these things. It's no wonder you don't solve cases as easily as you used to. You rush and you miss the simple things. Tut tut, Sherly."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet. There was no point in arguing. And waking John wouldn't do any good either. He would only be emotional and still weak from surgery. He needed his rest and Sherlock refused to wake him, especially for something that would upset him. They all sat in silence for a while before Jim finally spoke again.

"I came to strike a deal with you, Sherlock," the small Irishman hummed. "I'm sure you're well aware by now that I had those little accidents arranged. Obviously I couldn't have arranged the cancer. That was simply a happy surprise. But the car? The gunshots? Of course that was me! And I can easily do it again. Remember what it means when an assassin misses their target? They aren't really trying," he purred. "Of course, I can always pay more, make sure they don't miss next time. Unless you agree to the terms of my deal."

Sherlock raised a brow, curious and yet wanting to refuse immediately. "What do you want?" he repeated.

Jim chuckled. "You, of course. I won last time. And I don't like being beaten, so I plan to win again this time. You are going to complete a few jobs for me, without telling anyone. I'll give you the details later. But I need someone who isn't a mindless imbecile to complete these jobs, and you're the best I could hire. Other than myself, of course," he explained. "I'm sure this is a bit of a shock to you. So you have 48 hours. When you're prepared to accept my offer, contact your homeless network. The message will reach me."

With that, Jim left the room and headed back to where he'd come from. Sherlock didn't say a word, trying to get some sleep with John. He was kept up all night though as he thought about the deal. Of course his gut instinct was to refuse and simply boost security for them. But he knew it would be of little to no use. Moriarty's men would sneak through somehow and still manage to kill John. Sherlock had to do whatever he could to protect his partner. He couldn't lose John. Having already experienced that fear plenty over the past year, he didn't need any more of it.

John woke the next morning and noticed something was wrong, but couldn't get anything out of his partner. Sherlock refused to tell him what was going on and no one else knew. The security cameras had been wiped, so even if John thought to check them, no one would be able to find anything out of the ordinary. Jim was completely prepared as usual. And Sherlock was panicking internally. He couldn't tell anyone what was going on but he had to make a decision. In the end, he decided to protect John the best way he could.


	11. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff couldn't last forever

Before long, John was released from the hospital and Sherlock's decision reached Jim. The criminal mastermind was certainly pleased with himself and planned on taking full advantage of this. Sherlock, of course, was still incredibly careful and protective of John. He made sure Mycroft had eyes on them at all times so John could be as safe as possible.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John demanded as they were walking home from Tesco one evening. He'd just needed a few things for tea and to make for breakfast the next day and Sherlock had insisted on coming with him. Now the detective was glancing around suspiciously at everyone and refused to let him cross the road on his own without checking every direction at least three times. 

"Nothing. Simply ensuring you don't end up back in the hospital before you absolutely must," the brunet insisted.

"I'm fine. I'm not made of glass, Sherl. You don't have to protect me like this. I can handle myself perfectly fine," John told him gently. 

Sherlock sighed, but didn't argue, simply trying to make himself and his actions more discrete. He needed to keep John safe, Moriarty's threat lingering in his mind. He didn't want to take any risks, even though he knew Moriarty knew exactly what he had chosen to do. But he couldn't tell John. No, that would just upset him and he didn't need that when he'd just come home. Sherlock could handle this on his own. He'd enlisted some help from Mycroft as well, but was doing his best to keep it to himself otherwise. 

The pair continued their regular lives though. Sherlock took cases, though he tried to take easier ones that wouldn't require as much legwork. He didn't want to strain John. He slowly built up to the more strenuous cases though, making sure John could handle it. The blonde took it all in stride, taking breaks when he had to and pushing onward when he could. He seemed to adjust rather well to missing part of his lung. He continued to see his doctor regularly and the cancer showed no signs of returning. Everything finally seemed to be looking up. Everyone was healthy and happy, the cases kept coming, and there was hardly anything to complain about, apart from the fact that John still refused to allow Sherlock to smoke and London was, as usual, rainy and wet.

One evening in particular, Sherlock had found an interesting case and John insisted on tagging along. They'd been running around London for the better part of the day looking for clues and any sort of trace for the killer. Sherlock was of course in his element and John helped as much as he could. Hardly anyone could even tell he'd lost part of his lung to cancer as he chased after Sherlock again and again. 

"There he is!" Sherlock called when he spotted the killer, chasing after him. John followed right behind him, his own gun ready in case the target decided to shoot. He wouldn't let anyone hurt Sherlock. 

The pair chased after the masked man, determined to catch him and hand him over to Scotland Yard. They wouldn't let him get away, Sherlock taking short cuts and getting closer with every step. That is, until he heard a gunshot and cry of pain, turning just in time to see John collapse to the ground. 

"John!" he shouted, racing over to his partner and crouching beside him. There was no response, but Sherlock also noticed there wasn't much blood either. Trying not to move the blond too much, he checked John's head. One wound. There was an entrance wound and no exit wound. There was still a bullet lodged somewhere in John's brain. He wasn't losing blood as rapidly as he could be, but there was sure to be plenty of damage. Sherlock cried out for someone to help and Lestrade heard, running over and getting an ambulance from his crew. John was raced to the hospital, already unconscious. No one heard what came next.

"I did what you said," Sherlock muttered under his breath. "I took the deal. I performed every task. I did the work. This shouldn't have happened. This shouldn't have happened. I did what I was supposed to do. John was supposed to be safe. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to get hurt again." He knew Moriarty could hear. He had ears and eyes everywhere.

"This one wasn't me," Jim told him gently as he came out. He'd been watching, of course. While he rarely left his office usually, he had to keep an eye on Sherlock. Stepping forward towards the detective as everyone else had gone, he continued. "I didn't arrange this hit. Someone else did. Either another organization or someone acting independently. But it wasn't me or anyone working for me. I had no part in this."

Sherlock glared, storming off immediately. He didn't want to hear anything the criminal mastermind had to say. All he knew was John had gotten hurt on a case yet again. It had to be his fault. Of course it was Sherlock's fault. It always was. That was the only possible choice Sherlock could see now. And as much as he wanted to just sulk, he went to the hospital and waited as long as it took to see John. He was there for the night as the emergency team worked to remove the bullet and repair as much damage as they could. It wasn't until the next afternoon that Sherlock was permitted to see him.

"Mr. Holmes?" the nurse commented as they stopped at the door. "There's something you should know about Dr. Watson. He's.....Well, he won't be what you're used to. He's lost a large portion of his brain and, unfortunately, it was the portion dedicated to memory. Specifically, his entorhinal cortex, which is responsible for the memory. His amygdala seems to be partially damaged, but he seems to be coping and expressing emotion properly with little trouble. In general, his temporal lobe sustained the most damage and that's where most of his symptoms are coming from. He.....He doesn't remember anyone or anything. He can barely remember who he is. There's no way to bring back his memory and his short term memory is gone completely. He won't be able to learn things over again. There's another issue as well. With all the damage his brain sustained from the bullet, there's a lot of inflammation. He doesn't have long left at this rate. There's nothing we can do for him that hasn't already been done. Basically, he's dying slowly and there's nothing that can stop it."

Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded before entering the room to see the blond sitting up in bed. He smiled softly, trying to seem nonchalant. But John furrowed his brow in confusion. 

"Who are you? Are you one of my doctors?" John asked. Sherlock was clearly disheartened.

"No, I..... We're together. We're a couple. We......We were going to get married one day," Sherlock told him.

John's eyes widened. "We were? That must be what this was for then," he commented, digging out the ring that had been in his pocket. The paramedics had taken it out as he was brought to the hospital and it was placed in the drawer next to his bed. The ring was gorgeous and perfect as it was slid onto Sherlock's finger. "I must've been planning to propose before what happened. So.....will you still marry me?"

"Of course I will," Sherlock murmured, staring at his partner. "We'll have to plan something quickly though," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

John smiled and nodded. "Sorry, but you'll have to do most of it. I'm stuck here, I'm afraid."

"We'll have it here then. I'll have my brother, Mycroft, arrange everything so we can be married in this room within the week. Shouldn't be too much trouble."

John seemed astonished, but nodded in agreement. The two talked for a while before it was time for Sherlock to go home. It was terrible, knowing that when he came back John wouldn't remember him yet again. Knowing that the man he loved hardly had any time left to live. But they would be married before he died and Sherlock would ensure that it was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be under the circumstances. John may not remember it, but it would be amazing and Sherlock would at least have pictures to remember it when John was gone.


	12. The Wedding Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff and heartache

Sherlock returned to the hospital every day to see John, staying the entire time he could and sometimes even spending the night. Although when he did stay, John often panicked the next morning to find him in bed. He constantly had to remind the blond of who both of them were, what was going on, and why he was in the hospital. But for the most part, Sherlock was just happy to be with his partner again. He told Mycroft everything that had happened and about the wedding he wanted to have performed in the hospital before John met his end. It had to be fast, he insisted. And Mycroft certainly delivered.

Roughly two weeks after John was admitted to the hospital, Mycroft had the entire room decorated in burgundy and ivory with hydrangeas and mums. Sherlock wore a tailored tuxedo with a burgundy hydrangea pinned to the lapel while John was dressed in his white hospital gown with an ivory mum pinned on. An officiant was brought in to preform the ceremony and there were a few small cameras to record the event. Mycroft, Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Mike had all been invited to attend the wedding and all were present. They could hardly believe what was happening to John, but were glad to be part of the best day of the men's lives.

The ceremony was beautiful and everyone was moved to tears. Sherlock and John exchanged rings and repeated what the officiant told them to say. The marriage certificate was signed and it was official. They were Dr. and Mr. Watson-Holmes. 

"Sherlock?" John said suddenly once the ceremony had come to an end. He took the brunet's hand and gazed into his eyes. "I know I don't remember much of anything and I know I can't relearn it all. But there's one thing I know and nothing can ever take away from me. I love you more than anything. More than life itself. And while I know I don't have long left, I'm going to love every day of it that I can spend with you. You've made my life incredible and I have you to thank for making me so happy. No matter how little time I have, I know it will be amazing because I'll have you here. I love you, Sherlock Holmes. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, even if I forget it sometimes and even if it's short."

Sherlock couldn't help the tears welling up in his eyes as he listened to John, leaning in and kissing him deeply once he finished. The detective did his best to pour every last drop of his love and affection into the kiss, as though hoping to make it so John could never forget how much Sherlock was in love with him. Soon he pulled back, gazing longingly into the man's eyes. 

"I love you too, John. More than you could ever know. You're right about not having much time left. But I'm glad we could be married before it ended. This is what we've always wanted together and now it's happened. I don't know how I'm going to cope with your loss. But at least I'll have a ring to remember this day. And I'll have the video and pictures of our wedding," the man murmured softly. 

Sherlock and John spent quite a bit of time after that in one another's embrace, refusing to let go until they absolutely had to. They had a small cake that they cut and fed to one another, though John wasn't allowed to have much. They received little gifts from all of their guests and tried to have as normal of a wedding as possible. They got to pretend, at least for a little while, that everything was normal and that they would have the rest of their lives together. They would be together forever. But that was only true for John, really. They'd be married for the rest of John's life because he didn't have much life left to live. Sherlock would be a widower. He would never marry again, that was certain. He was John's completely, no matter what happened.

Eventually everyone else had to leave as visiting hours ended. Sherlock was permitted to stay the night, though they hardly got to have a honeymoon. It was just another peaceful night in the hospital bed together. John slept as usual, though Sherlock couldn't sleep. The detective was in tears all night, but refused to let John see. He needed to be happy for his husband. He needed to make what life he had left memorable for the right reasons. He needed John to have a good life. At least now that they were married, Sherlock was given the rights of a family member. He was permitted to see John more than anyone else and would end up inheriting all of his belongings after his death, including his army pension. But he didn't want anything apart from John. He'd give up everything if it meant he could keep John alive and with him.


	13. Sweet Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst and the end

Sherlock and John spent the rest of John's life together, though it crushed Sherlock to watch John's condition worsen by the day knowing there was nothing he could do. There were good days and bad, but Sherlock took them all in stride and helped John as best he could. Day by day, John's condition changed and Sherlock adapted to help as best he could. But finally there came a day where there was nothing that could be done. The swelling in John's brain was so bad at that point, it was definite he would die.

"It's best to start planning and saying goodbye," the nurse told Sherlock softly as John slept that afternoon.

Sherlock was heartbroken, but nodded and started thinking. They already had plans for the funeral because of the last time John was in the hospital. He was dying then as well and they'd made plans for everything. Now they actually had to use the plans. Sherlock had to really say goodbye this time though. The detective sighed, sitting at John's bedside and holding his hand. 

"I suppose it really is a permanent goodbye this time, isn't it?" the brunet murmured sadly. "Last time it was mere speculation.You were unlikely to survive, but you did. But this time, there's not even a 1% chance you'll live. You're dying right here and now...... I love you, John Hamish Watson-Holmes..... I'd do anything to keep you here with me. You're the only person who's ever been willing to die for me. You protected me and stood by me no matter how much trouble I caused. You've always been there for me, even when I behaved like a complete arse. The one person I love most in this world and you're going to be gone soon......." Sherlock couldn't help the tears that began welling up in his eyes as he sniffled. "I......I'm going to miss you, John. But I'll take care of myself for you. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will refuse to let me miss any meals. Lestrade will keep giving me cases. Mycroft will never keep his nose out of my business. And Molly will continue her assistance as well. But it won't be the same without you. I love you so much, John. I'll miss you."

Everyone else soon came in one by one to say their goodbyes as well, then all gathered in the room and waited. John's time came soon enough as his heart monitor flat lined. Sherlock couldn't help himself and he ran off so no one else would see him cry. It wasn't something he typically did, but he couldn't help it anymore. He was losing the love of his life. John was gone now and there was nothing he could do about it.

******Three Years Later******

Sherlock was on his way to a case, Lestrade having delivered it this morning. It was something thrilling, something Sherlock hadn't had in what felt like ages. He was finally excited again and couldn't wait to solve this one just like the others.

"John, it isn't twins! It's never twins!" the detective argued as he stepped out of the cab and headed to the crime scene. Lestrade furrowed his brow as the man stepped closer.

"Who are you talking to?" the grey-haired man questioned, glancing around.

"John. He'll be here soon. It takes him a bit to get out of the cab now," Sherlock replied simply, as though it were the most reasonable thing he could say.

"Um, Sherlock....... John isn't here," Lestrade insisted gently.

"Of course he is. I was just in the cab with him. He'll be right here in just a moment," the detective argued. 

"Sherlock....... John's been dead for three years," Lestrade told him carefully, watching the man for any sign of a breakdown. 

Sherlock's eyes widened as some of the memories returned to him. He deleted John's death sometimes, as it was too traumatic for him to remember. But everyone so often someone had to remind him and he had to relive the situation over and over because he continued to delete it so he didn't have to live with it. Sherlock was crushed every time, but he had to deal with it. He had to accept that John was dead. But he kept putting it off as he deleted it every time someone brought it up. Then he'd continue on with his life until someone reminded him yet again. But sometimes he was reminded when he didn't need to be. Sometimes people thought he deleted the memory because he'd be caught talking to John again. But it was just his memories. It was just him talking aloud, though he knew John couldn't really hear him. He continually watched their wedding video and played with his wedding band, waiting for the day he could join John once again in death's embrace. He lived in John's memory until then.


End file.
